Comfort
by Song of Stillness
Summary: Eowyn wanders alone in the garden... seeking someone to answer and comfort her heart's questions.


**Comfort**

She walks mainly in shadows, the coolness of the evening touching her face with shivery fingers. Her mind longs for escape, for gentle transcendence into a place far from here, far from everything. Her mind flicks back to the night's festivities; fragmented stills, like rippled water; flickering torchlight, coloured voices, laughter and tinkling glass. She had intended to get away as soon as possible, but knew this was not possible until the crowd dispersed. And disperse it did, like smoke weaving its way through countless halls.

The trees part to meet her now, willowy arms stretched to the night, leaves caressing the sky. She presses her hands to the darkness, hoping for something, someone to hear her spirit's musings…Her thoughts are dark… floating like sleeping beasts over the waters of her mind.

A soft light glints in the corner of her eye and she gasps, turning sharply.

'My… my Lord, I'm sorry… I did not see you there…' her words sound strange and awkward even to her ears, her breathing fast and frightened to have someone as silent and regal as this magical being disturb her private thoughts.

The Elvin Lord inclines his head; a movement of fluidness and grace.

'My Lady… you are not intruding.' Eowyn looks closer, perceiving some grey light, a sparkle of laughter in the depths of the eyes, and yet beneath that something deeper, indiscernible.

'Forgive me, Lord Legolas, but do you not need your rest…?'

He sighs softly, turning his face up to the sky so as not to look at her. 'My Lady Eowyn, I am not accustomed to staying within stone walls…' He smiles, sadness in his eyes. 'I prefer to take my troubles and cares to the stars, who in turn sustain my needs.'

'I, I am sorry My Lord.' She drops her head, her eyes on the shadowed grass. 'I shall leave…'

'Eowyn…'

She stops, her heart strangely moved by his vulnerability. He turns to face her; the darkness a void of silence between them.

'My Lord…?'

She detects the shimmer of near tears in his eyes and a surge of sadness sweeps over her, almost consuming her.

'You are sad my Lord…'

He does not speak, but stands in utter stillness, hoping the wind will dry his tears. After a little while he speaks.

'I am afraid it is more than just mere sorrow, my Lady. There is a curse that comes with immortality, when the world decays and yet the body and the mind stay the same. I have witnessed the deaths of countless friends, of those I loved and would give my life for, and I have lived as the seasons passed, changing from Autumn to Winter… lived with the knowledge that I can do nothing…' He looks at her with such sorrow and then lowers his voice to a whisper, 'Forgive me this weakness, Lady.'

'I do not think you weak, my Lord,' Eowyn murmurs, 'I think you are strong and blessed with much courage.' She steps forward, until she is nearly touching him, so close she can feel his light breath. 'Even the bravest at times feel saddened, especially when one loves much…' Her voice is so quiet, but not quiet enough so as not to be detected by Elvin ears.

Legolas looks down at her, a curious light in his eyes.

She smiles and turns to face him.

Will you walk with me a while, Lady Eowyn?' He smiles at her, troubles forgotten for a moment. She takes his offered hand; slender and pale in the moonlight, and steps beside him, her hair fanning in the slight breeze. They talk of nothing for a while, but dip in the cool night shadows, the dark velvety night enfolding them like a close friend. Eowyn notices that her beautiful companion seems a little happier now that he is distracted, but she cannot help think back to his words.

'My Lord?'

They stop under a flowering white blossom tree, still glowing faintly visible in the night.

'What you said earlier… about immortality …' she turns to face him, a frown furrowing her brow. 'You are blessed…many would die to have such a precious and prized gift from the Valar…'

Legolas stops, his careful gaze sweeping over her. She feels his gaze pass beyond her body and enter her soul, searching for the shape of her intent. His eyes are like ancient pools of wisdom, each light-filled crescent, a tangent of time, of death, of things seen and unseen, immortal eyes that bear the tidings of life itself. She feels like an unborn child in comparison.

His eyes retreat into the distance, and take on a far-away, misty look.

'My Lord?' she questions, a little afraid she has crossed the boundary. 'I'm sorry if I…'

He silences her with a soft look.

'It _is_ death I long for, lady… and I will not be content until I am quenched in its depths, sailing upon its clear, obsidian waters.'

Eowyn blinks, staring up into the wise face.

'I do not understand, my Lord…'

'Eowyn.' He takes her face between his palms, eyes grave. 'Immortality may seem like a blessing when the world is so fleeting and your life passes by without a thought… but to be grounded in this wheel of relentless living…it is torment…'

'I am sorry, my Lord,' Eowyn whispers. She feels pain for him nestle inside her.

'My Lady…' his face softens and he takes her hands again. 'I have unburdened myself on you unnecessarily. You must forgive me… you have no need to carry more darkness…'

She looks up at him, a little frightened. 'My Lord, you speak as if you know my thoughts…'

He looks gravely at her, his eyes filled with grief. 'I know some of what you suffer concerning Lord Aragorn… but it runs deeper than that… and my heart breaks for you…'

Eowyn can no longer keep the tears from streaming down her face. She clings to him, her hands gripping his soft tunic, his arms slip around her. And in that moment she forgets where she is, who she is and yields to his touch, trembles at his nearness, his breath fanning her cheek, her hair, lost to his warmth, his tenderness…

She lifts her tear-stained face to his like a child and he looks down at her, grief in his eyes, but also understanding. He leans towards her, white-gold hair falling across her face. And what happens next is no more than instinct… comfort and release from intense grief, intense pain. His warm mouth finds hers and gentle fingers smooth away the cares and worries from her brow. She presses herself against him, trying to extinguish all pain, all longing, all her darkness in that one embrace, while he moves his lips over her cheeks, her closed eye-lids. When it's over she stands against him, listening to his heartbeat as it beats slowly back to normal against her cheek. The coolness of the night lifts around them, shrouding them in velvet.

Finally she steps back and looks up into his light-filled face.

In that one gaze they understand each other completely.

She smiles at him. 'Thank you,' she whispers.

He presses a hand to his heart. 'No. Thank you, My Lady. You have reminded me that there is still some good in this world. Your inner strength shines like the stars.'

She smiles, her eyes bright and turns to slip back to her room, her body peaceful, as if some great weight has dissolved into the night.


End file.
